


My Youth, my Youth is Yours

by athousandwaystoclexa



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan, clexa - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, CLEXAA, Clexa, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, a serious slow burn, and everyone else just needs to calm the fuck down, and rlly just need a hug, but like, clarke and lexa are soft, i cant tag, once clexa gets going it'll be hella quick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-17 17:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athousandwaystoclexa/pseuds/athousandwaystoclexa
Summary: Are you there?Three words. Foreign languages. Writing she decided to ignore. Emotions she was too afraid to face.





	1. Chapter 1

_Clarke_

 

_Are you there?_

A minute passed, and then two. Three simple words, the last of her charcoal drawn sloppily on her left arm. The minutes ticked by at a faster pace now, at least according to her watch. Clarke sat idly. Her gaze flickered from the view of earth across her barren floors back to her arm, to the floor again, and to her arm.

It’d been months since she’d received any sort of communication from her soulmate, and for the most part, Clarke hadn’t sent anything either. A couple months after her seventeenth birthday, the once familiar dreams of brunette locks and foreign languages ceased too. She was sure the tea given to her every night at dinner was partly to blame, but the guards making sure she drank every last drop made it a little difficult to avoid ingesting.

But there were those few times. Where suddenly, she’d feel a spark of something. Anything, really. The emotions that didn’t quite belong to her. They lingered somewhere in the back of her mind- the last few flames of a fire that refused to be tarnished. Eventually those stopped too- somewhere around halfway through her first month in solitary, she guessed. It’d been a pain. A deep sense of loss and hurt spiking through every vein in her body. Clarke wasn’t sure her soulmate would ever get over it. Another month passed, and faintly, she could feel the hurt dull.

And then, everything dulled.

“Prisoner 319, face the wall.” The cell door opened, atmosphere uneasy.

Clarke swallowed, blue eyes trained on the unappealing wall before her, “What is this?”

“Quiet. Hold out your right arm.” The guards voice was icy and calculated. Silently, she wondered if he knew he was sending her to her death. Or maybe he was afraid; young seventeen year old locked in solitary for treason, probably pretty dangerous.

No. She turned. Obviously there was some kind of mistake. She got reviewed at eighteen.

“N-no. It’s not my time I don’t turn eighteen for another month.”

“Give me the watch.” The other guard’s shock baton whipped out, frightening the naive blonde even further. Clarke stood tall. The watch dangling from her right arm was the last, most important thing she had left of her father, and she wasn’t giving it up without a hell of a fight.

“Take it off.” His voice was sharper this time, daring her to disobey. Abruptly, his hand found its way to Clarke’s wrist, grip firm. He wasn’t afraid to hurt her.

Her mind panicked, instincts taking over. She pushed one man away, knocking him into the other. They both recovered quickly, though, and she rushed to dodge the shock baton coming straight for her abdomen.

Clarke’s hands fumbled for the railing, looking for anything to ground her. Behind her, the slammed the door shut. The guards wouldn’t be long behind her, but it was a start.

Blue eyes darted from one corner of the Sky Box to the other. There were three guards to almost every prisoner. Some, she could see, were putting up a fight. Unlike her though, none came out victorious. It’d seemed every teenager had the same idea. They were all being executed.

“Prisoner 31-” She turned to run.

“Clarke, stop!”

“Mom? Mom?” Her facade dropped. Familiar arms enveloped her in a tight hug she hadn’t realized she missed so much.

“What is this? They’re killing us all, aren’t they? Reducing population to make more time for the rest of you.”

“Clarke,” Her mother’s hands moved to her shoulders, “you are not being executed. You’re being sent to the ground. All one-hundred of you.”

Everything stopped. The ground had always been her dream. The sun on her face and sand beneath her toes. The feeling of a light breeze on her face and scent of wildflowers all around her. It was the ideal.

But, it also wasn’t supposed to be inhabitable for the next couple space air-lock generations. The nuclear apocalypse that ended the world had made sure of that. “What? But it’s not safe.” This was a suicide mission, she wanted to say. But her mother knew that, and that was exactly the reason they were the ones being sent to the ground.

“No, no. We get reviewed at eighteen.”

“The rules have changed. This gives you a chance to live.”

Clarke was speechless. Her mouth moved, but words failed her. This was her last shot at any kind of life, her mother was telling her. She wanted to argue that even if they did survive the initial entry, the earth would be no kind of life. A hundred teenagers with little to no experience in anything that could keep them alive. They’d be dead within a month.

“Your instincts will tell you to take care of everybody else first, just like your father.” Tears threatened to fall. The space box was empty save them and the guards surrounding her.

“But be careful, I can’t lose you too.”

Something pinched her spine. Her body went heavy. Vaguely, she could feel mother’s arms around her, lowering them both to the floor. Black spots darkened her vision, edging her near sleep.

“I love you.” _I love you too_.

And for the second time in her life, everything was dull.

 

Leksa

 

_Are you there?_

The first time in months. Three words scribbled close together, in a language most of her people were unfamiliar with. Did this mean her soulmate was a warrior amongst her ranks? Maybe somebody- she stopped her thoughts midway.

Lexa was unwilling to even think about her soulmate, much less fathom idea of actually indulging in whoever they may be. Especially after Costia. Love was weakness. Love left you exposed to your enemies, left your lover exposed to your enemies, and arguably most importantly, left her people vulnerable to her enemies.

When leaders let their emotions get the best of them, people died. People she was sworn to protect died. Costia died.

And so, every night she drank the tea. She refused the dreams, refused any communication. It was better that way- when she didn’t have to face the woman on the other side. The dreams she once looked forward to ceased to exist, leaving her with a dark void she much preferred to fill with battle strategies and varying levels of diplomacy.

Three words. In a language most weren’t familiar with. Scratched in with something that looked faintly like charcoal. She rolled down her sleeve.

“Heda?” Lexa recognized that voice. Anya.

She looked up, ignoring the slight pain at the ends of her tight braids. Anya stared back, her expression mixed somewhere between worry and pity. She kept her face stoic- emotionless. Anya caught on rather quickly. She wasn’t sure whether or not she liked that.

“Sha?”

“Prince Roan from Azgeda is here on behalf of his mother. To apologize.” The blonde’s voice was laced with an obvious disgust.

Lexa rolled her eyes the tiniest bit, but it was enough to lift her first’s spirits. Anya always caught on. The woman laughed, and for a second, she almost forgot about her more pressing issues. “Tell him I’ll speak with him later.”

“Are you-”

Anxiety. Panic. Jadedness. All three feelings, clouded by what felt like thousands more. She didn’t even hear the end of Anya’s statement.

She struggled to regain control of her emotions. Emotions that didn’t truly belong to her. It was her- whoever existed on the other side of the bond they both seemed to reject. Lexa tried to stop herself from being concerned, but there was only once she could recall ever feeling such a strong emotion from the other side of-

_“Leksa? Graun to Leksa?”_

“I’m sure. I’ll meet with him later.”

“Are you alright?”

No. She wasn’t.

“Yes. Fine. Is that all?” Anya nodded. Lexa dismissed her with a wave of her hand, and then she was alone again.

Three words. Foreign language. Writing she decided to ignore. Emotions she was too afraid to face.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke

 

Clarke’s head ached. It throbbed with an intensity she previously hadn’t been aware she was capable of. And the jolting certainly wasn’t helping. _Jolting?_

Her eyes darted open, blinking hazily a few times before her vision cleared. She was strapped into some kind of chair, the wristband from earlier pinching into her arm. One hundred teenagers- on their way to Earth to save the rest of the human population.

And to make a great day even better, here was Wells, sitting right beside her as if he hadn’t signed her father’s death warrant. He looked as calm as ever, like this was some game of chess and he was just deciding his next move. Jaha had the same look; even when he’d floated Jake. The look that told her they were all pawns in a much bigger game.

“Welcome back,” Clarke could only stare,

“Look I-”

“Wells, why are you here?”

“When I found out they were sending prisoners to the ground, I got myself arrested. I came for you.” His face was hopeful, and the blonde wanted nothing more than to slap the look right off him.

The lights went out. People screamed as they rattled about, a sense of panic and curious tension filling the room, “What was that?”

“That,” Wells paused, “was the atmosphere.”

The screens above them turned on, synchronizing with the changing lights. The fake, synthetic light she was used to. It was comforting, in a weird sort of way.

“Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now.” Jaha. The one man Clarke hated more than Wells.

He continued, “You have been given a second chance. And as your chancellor it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but as a chance for all of us. Indeed, for mankind itself. Frankly, we’re sending you because your crimes have made you expendable.”

“Your dad’s a dick, Wells!” The teenagers laughed, the ambience in the room lightening the slightest bit. Around her, nobody averted their attention back to Jaha. She couldn’t blame them; he’d signed their death warrants too.

Somebody, Finn, she thought she heard someone call him, floated out of his seat, “Check it out, your dad floated me after all.” Clarke averted her gaze. What did she care?

She didn't. At least not until two more followed. Was everyone trying to get themselves killed? “Hey, you two! Stay put if you want to live.”

They didn’t listen. She should have expected as much.

“You’re the traitor who’s been in solitary for a year.” Finn spoke, drawing Clarke’s attention back to him. He wore a smug look, and in any other situation, she might have found it intriguing. Now, though, it was just annoying.

“You’re the idiot who wasted a month of oxygen on an illegal spacewalk.” If only he’d known how important that oxygen was now.

“But it was fun,” he smiled, “I’m Finn.”

Seconds passed, and then the parachutes deployed. There was a moment of weightlessness, and then Finn, and the two others went crashing into the wall behind her.

“Finn! Are you okay?” There was no response. Sparks shot out from hundred year old wires. Panicked yells and anxious breaths were all Clarke heard for a good while. The screen shut off.

“The fuel rockets ‘ought have fired by now!” Wells’ voice was panicked too, she noticed.

“It’s okay!” Clarke wasn’t sure if she was reassuring him, or herself. “Everything on this rocket is a hundred years old, right? Just give it a second!”

“Clarke, there’s something I have to tell you,” she turned her head, “I’m sorry I got your father arrested-”

He was not doing this right now, “Don’t you talk about my father!”

“I can’t die knowing that you hate me!”

But she did. She hated him with every fiber, every atom of her body. There were times when she was filled with rage, where she wanted to float him for what he’d done.

“They didn’t arrest my father, Wells! They executed him! I do hate you!” There was no sympathy, nowhere for Wells to read between the lines. She hated him, and she was going to be sure he knew it.

Her eyes squeezed shut, and faintly, she recalled screaming herself. Then, there was silence. Nobody seemed to know what to do, so nobody did anything.

“Listen. No machine hum.”

And he was right. For the first time in her seventeen years of living, there was no machine hum to be heard. There was no manufactured oxygen murmuring through the walls, no sterile smell of metal. Clarke let out a breathy sigh of relief, and then she was clipping herself out of her seat.

They were alive.

“Finn, is he breathing?” She watched as he checked for the boy’s pulse, doing the same to the other boy closest to her. Solemnly, he shook his head. There was nothing they could do.

“The outer door is on the lower level,” Someone shouted. And like that, her small wave of grief was pushed aside.

“No,” Clarke stood, already climbing down the ladder, “We can’t just open the doors!”

From her view, she could see a guard at the door, pushing people away. Why was there a guard with them? It didn’t matter. He seemed smart enough to understand that opening the doors was a bad idea.

They had not the slightest idea what lay beyond. For all they knew, the second they opened the doors, a simmering wave of radiation could kill them all.

“Stop!” She pushed her way past everyone without too much difficulty, “we can’t just open the doors. The air could be toxic.” The guard, no older than maybe twenty-seven, seemed agitated. She ignored it.

“If the air’s toxic, we’re all dead anyways.” Clarke opened her mouth, ready with a retort about how, medically, that wasn’t how it worked.

“Bellamy?”

She remembered her parents talking about the Blake’s once. Octavia had been found without an identification badge during a solar flare. When the incident was further investigated, it was discovered that the youngest Blake was a second child. She remembered her parents talking about how it was almost a record, sixteen years in hiding under a hollowed floorboard.

She remembered how upset her parents were at the entire ordeal, and how she couldn’t for the life of her fathom why. One child per family- that was the law.

She remembered when she used to think life was always that black and white.

“We’re back, bitches!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nobody's reading this, but if by some stroke of fate somebody is and also wants to help me write and develop Lexa, I'd be honestly forever thankful. ANYWAYS- happy sugar and love day all of you lovely people!!

**Author's Note:**

> this was so gross i'm physically sorry


End file.
